Paul Doherty - Queen of the Night

Leartus kicked off his sandals, stood up, took the chain from his neck, the bracelets from his wrists, the rings from his fingers and threw them to the ground. He undid his belt and shrugged off his tunic so he stood naked in his loincloth. Tilting back his head, he began to chant in a strange language, staring up at the sky, stretching out his hands. Cassia tried to claw his arm but he shrugged her off. Urbana screamed, clear proof of her own guilt, but Leartus continued to chant, his voice growing stronger. He paused and squatted, hands on his thighs, and stared across at Claudia.

'You are fortunate, mistress,' he began. 'Your man is a warrior. I watched him fight in the arena. My heart went out to him. What you say is true. I am the son of a Pictish chieftain, a former slave, castrated by my captors, sold in Rome, employed by the Lady Cassia. I never, how could I, forget that night. I became separated from my father. I hid beneath a corpse out in the heather. I took my torque and bracelets and put them on another body. The night passed. Dawn came. The Romani were drunk. They thought we were all dead. I watched them take off their armour so they could enjoy my father being tortured.' He clawed the side of his face. 'I always prayed,' he whispered, 'that the time of blood would come.' He smiled. 'General Aurelian's parties! One after another, year in and year out, then it was the turn of the Fretenses. I saw them! The time of blood had arrived. The ghosts of the past had caught up with my soul. Petilius recognised me. I certainly recognised him and the rest. I invoked the blood feud. My father's shade and those of his followers demanded their deaths. I was still a warrior. I enjoyed killing them. I do not regret it.

'For the rest,' he sighed, 'you are correct.' He gestured round the garden. 'Rome! Do you like it, Claudia?' He pointed at Urbana and Cassia. 'They don't. They are the daughters of British tribesmen. They enjoy Christianity because it's still special, not truly Roman. They once worshipped Egyptian goddesses, whom they replaced with the Magdalena. I thought it was amusing. Aurelian would not do what Urbana wanted. He underestimated the dark rages, the pride seething in her. She hated Aurelian and all he stood for. It was so easy. I dealt with Sesothnes, meeting him disguised in the dark, giving him instructions, distributing his share of the spoils. As you said, no one was hurt, no real harm was done. Why should I object if a few fat, wealthy Romans lost their children for a few days for a small portion of their wealth? Especially compared with what I had lost. I never really overcame my hatred for Romans or their city.' He turned his head, i had no objections to their games or their stupid pursuit of dusty knowledge. When Alexander was killed, I began to wonder, then General Aurelian died and I suspected. The gods know that I had no hand in that. I watched your man in the arena and I knew what it was to be a warrior, to fight in the sunlight, to be honest and true. If you had not confronted me, perhaps I would have left Rome, taken my secrets to the grave, but why should I die on a cross? For what? No, I'll take the warrior's way.'

'And what Claudia has accused Lady Urbana and Cassia of is the truth?' Helena asked sharply.

'It is the truth.' Leartus got to his feet, i wish to be gone.'

'Burrus!' Helena called into the darkness. The German came forward, his sword already drawn. 'Not here,' the Empress declared, 'not here, where we are being entertained. Find some lonely spot. Let it be done quickly.'

Leartus bowed towards Claudia and, ignoring the rest, allowed the German to take him away. Helena was now sitting up on the edge of her couch; Constantine no longer acted the drunk.

'You should be crucified!' he shouted. 'For the evil you have done.'

'No, no,' Helena interrupted. 'You, Cassia, I believe, once called yourself the Queen of the Night. You are correct. Both of you are Queens of the Night, ladies of the dark. You plotted kidnappings, abductions, murder and treason. You, Urbana, killed your own husband, a general of Rome, and his lovely young son Alexander, for what? For money? And you, Cassia, as always, you followed. You were hers,' Helena spat the words out and pointed at Urbana, 'body and soul!' The Empress straightened up. 'Claudia's accusations are proven. Leartus' confession simply confirms it. I am sure my searchers at the villa will seal your fate. However, you will not die on the cross.'

Urbana began to sob.

'Silence,' the Empress ordered. 'Murranus here appealed to the ancient rites of Rome. So do I. Both of you will be taken out to the Polluted Fields and sealed in an underground chamber. You will stay there without food or drink for forty days. If you are still protesting your innocence at the end of that period, I will think again, but I believe you are truly guilty. The Empire demands justice and so does God.' Helena raised a hand and snapped her fingers. 'Take them away.'

The trumpets brayed, sending the birds whirling up to the sky to cry raucously at being disturbed. The Polluted Fields had been prepared for the entombment of two leading ladies of Rome. Urbana and Cassia had been paraded in a cart throughout the city, squatting in dirty, ash-strewn clothes, their heads shorn, their faces branded, exposed to the fury of the mob. They left the city by the Coelian Gate. By then the mob had grown tired of the catcalling, throwing stones and refuse. Behind the cart marched a squad of the imperial guard, and alongside it a troop of auxiliary cavalry. Both women were broken, and by the time they reached the Polluted Fields they crouched heads down, not even touching each other.

Helena had ordered Claudia and Murranus to witness the women's end. The summons had been delivered by Burrus, who was now helping the prisoners, wrists and ankles chained, out of the cart, dragging them along the pebbled path towards the grey stone steps which led down to the execution chamber built beneath the earth. Claudia, at the Empress' command, had already visited it to ensure all was prepared. She had never experienced such an eerie, sombre, godforsaken place. Grey walls, grey paving stones, grey roof, no aperture, no window, nothing but a bench and a table and, on that, a pewter tray with two earthenware cups of water and chunks of dry rye bread, the last they would ever be given. The door was of heavy oak reinforced with steel bands and metal studs. Once it was closed, there would be no light, no air, nothing but a yawning darkness. Claudia had felt a pang of sorrow for both women, but Murranus reminded her of Alexander coughing out his blood, Aurelian dying heartbroken, as well as the terror and squalor experienced by the children who'd been kidnapped.

The executioner, a jolly-faced man without his hideous dog mask, had followed them around asking if all was in order. Claudia had replied that it was. Now she and Murranus stood at the top of those sombre steps watching the two women being hustled towards their deaths. She hardly recognised them. They now clung to each other, sobbing quietly, faces streaked, clothing nothing more than stained rags. At the top of the steps the chains were loosened, their ropes cut and both women were thrust down into the darkness. Neither one looked at Claudia, who had brought them to this place of justice. Claudia closed her eyes as she heard a shriek, then the executioner pushed them into the chamber, slamming the door behind them, padlocking the chain, nailing up the notice of death.

Claudia opened her eyes and stared across the execution ground. Nearby rose five crosses, gibbets for the corpses of the Egyptians Murranus had killed. She averted her gaze; the bodies were drained of blood, smeared with dung and dirt after being dragged through the city. She truly hated this horrid place with its sparse grass, grey stone chambers jutting above the earth and wooden gibbets stark against the sky. She pinched Murranus on the wrist.